


A Black, Powdered Version Of Love

by JosivChrisma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Sex, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/pseuds/JosivChrisma
Summary: When Harry visits Diagon Alley in search of a friendly face, things take a surprising turn when George reveals his new, illicit business venture.
Relationships: Harry Potter/George Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57
Collections: Writing Rainbow Black





	A Black, Powdered Version Of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> Thank you The_Plaid_Slytherin for giving me a reason to write my first M/M fic for you and this wonderful fandom.

Harry will always remember that day. When good, bested evil. With triumph came losses, people who sacrificed themselves, leaving behind loved ones who would endure their absences for years to come. They are like echoes now, empty voids filled with memories. Harry hears them now and then, gentle reminders that sing of eternal truths, that love is one of the greatest powers a wizard can wield.

Like magic, love takes many shapes and forms, and very rarely is it found in its purest.

Harry had spent the remainder of his final schooling year living between two households, the Weasleys’ and 12 Grimmauld Place, though the latter was seldom visited. Living in the terraced dwelling felt similar to dipping ones head into a pensieve, haunted by generations of old and freshly siphoned memories. Indeed its walls would proudly declare the secrets of an ancient pureblood family, if an inanimate object could be doused in veritaserum. Thankfully, that portrait’s poisonous tongue had taken to seething behind a velvet curtain, rather than filling the house with its shrieks of distaste. Even then, without another living soul, no creaking floors, uncrinkled cushions and bedding, the clankings of pots and wafting aromas of nurturing meals, followed by squeals of silver cutlery gliding against expensive china, just the constant racket of a wandering mind. 

The momentary seclusion served its purpose, wallowing in an empty room, but surrounding himself with others was a proven remedy of healing his emotional wounds. Although he missed his best friends, another face weighed heavy on his mind. Hurriedly, he collected his cargo jacket from the toppling coat hanger and threw it over the hoodie he had on. Even after the front door slammed behind him, that bleak portrait bid good riddance and didn’t wish him a safe return. Harry focused on the Leaky Cauldron and a foaming glass of butterbeer until the world turned into a smudged piece of artwork.

The churn of a skilfully executed apparition still tingled Harry’s limbs, though it could be mistaken for elation. It’s the smells that greeted him first, finely brewed ale, oak-cured mead and mulled wines, to name a few. Apart from the heady fragrances of alcohol, and pipe smoke, the air was dense with muffled song and chatter, far from the dark, musty spaces of his inherited estate. 

Harry averted his eyes from underneath the security of his hood, the faded scar on his forehead hidden from passers-by to avoid the attention that came with being the boy who lived, a second time. When the door to the inn swung open, his cheeks were walloped with warmth. Thankfully, the majority of its patrons had their faces buried in tankards, captured in harmless quarrels and conversations under a thin layer of herbaceous tobacco smoke. Several familiar names, including his own, spilled from their mouths, though he caught them without context as he weaved through the pub seemingly unnoticed. Tom, the owner, saw beyond the disguise and granted him passage with a nod reserved for old chums. 

Harry found his way to the cramped space behind the inn and tapped the weathered bricks in sequence, they swivelled apart in a synchronised dance until Diagon Alley appeared before him. It was just as he remembered those years ago before the second wizarding war when his innocence dwindled away with the onslaught of time. The splendour of the alley had been restored. The last time he visited, his footsteps echoed horridly, swallowed by forlorn stores and empty pathways branching into the depths of Knockturn alley, where the light was forced to cower in the darkness. The cobble-stoned artery, with its glowing street lamps, cast shadows on the faces of visitors as more bubbled from storefronts, nearing the close of another day. 

Night had arrived with grace, the sprawl of London’s city lights dulled by the canopy of stars. The further he walked along the main drag, absorbing the hums of voices trailing past him, like bees returning to their hives, the more he felt at peace. Until the mightiest boom filled the skies like thunder, and a silver orb the size of a quaffle shot skywards and exploded into the shape of a bird. Its wings fanned out in a show of feathers fluttering in an unfelt breeze. Judging by the reactions of others, the unexpected lighting of fireworks was the norm, and of course, that workmanship could only come from one place. Even at night tucked away in the alley, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stood invitingly amongst the rest of them.

The silver bird emitted an ascending call as it hovered in a circle above the vibrant joke shop. It was enough to rattle the peace from Harry’s bones, and it shook him into a realisation, that this was a tribute to Fred Weasley and the patronus he once shared with his twin brother. A magpie with a mischievous glint in its silver eyes. A second mighty boom announced the arrival of a second bird, now two colossal magpies were tangled in a playful exchange, swirling in double helixes across the sky. One finally broke formation and turned its head to the distance, while the other perched itself on the store’s roof. In its last act of roguery, the departing magpie dropped a knob of dung on its sombre companion’s poor noggin, before it made a dramatic exit of crackling explosions that drenched the rooftops with strobing lights. The lonely magpie all covered in silver excrement shivered from beak to talon, flinging specks into the air that dissolved into showers of light, creating a shimmering waterfall over the shop’s entrance. The acrid fumes of sulphur wafted past Harry, fitting considering the theatrics. He almost neglected the thought of being alone, when a cluster of spectators erupted in applause.

When a firm grip landed on Harry’s shoulder, his first instinct was to find the hilt of the wand strapped to his forearm, but the sonorous voice that followed eased the tension in his muscles. ‘What do you think, mate? Too sentimental?’ 

Harry’s grin stretched to his eyes when he realised who that hand belonged to. ‘It was blimmin’ brilliant,’ he replied, ‘symbolic, in fact.’

‘Oh, yeah? Sickle for my thoughts then,’ the voice said behind him, filled with an enthusiastic lilt. 

‘Magpies, of course. One for sorrow, two for joy. The generous parting gift was a nice touch too. Not sure if a shite to the head brings good luck to other birds though.’ 

‘Regardless, mate. If Fred came back as one, he’d do the honours on everyone’s heads just for fun, starting with mine first.’

Harry’s laughter poured from his mouth, and those broad fingers squeezed him gently. Finally, he craned his neck up to see George Weasley beaming down at him as their peals of laughter fused into a singular wave of joy. ‘How did you know it was me?’ Harry asked, lulling from one foot to another, with his fists buried inside the front pocket of his hoodie.

‘Who else stopped growing at the age of 11?’

Keeping a straight face around George was never an easy feat, impossible in fact. Never mind that Harry’s hood slipped off when he threw his head back in amusement or the fact that George quietly protested when he reached for it again. 

‘Don’t worry, man, no one will hassle you here,’ George insisted, having sensed the reason behind the hour of his visit. 

The alley was almost empty, save for a few stragglers filtering out of the joke store’s vibrant door with full hands and cheery faces. As they walked by, George thanked them for the support, while Harry was shielded by his tall frame. ‘I’ve been lighting them up in remembrance ever since.’

Harry stretched a hand up between a pair of solid shoulder blades, patting his friend briefly. ‘It’s a fine way to remember him, George.’ In the warm glow of a lamp post, beneath a blur of red hair, tired eyes reflected an unspoken yearning for his absent twin brother, though he shrugged it off in a matter of seconds. 

‘Come on in then, take a gander at the trees grown from your seeds.’ George opened the store door and bowed mockingly, ‘and the fruits of our labours, if you will, good sir.’

The store had always been a party for the senses, and the intellect behind every product still startled Harry. It had certainly developed into something more dangerous, as one would happily drain their pockets and money bags dry without a wince. Everything at once caught his eye. 

At the counter, Verity’s face lit up at the sight of him as she settled the till for the day. George straightened the suit he wore, which was a deep shade of burgundy with mustard threaded pinstripes, underneath, a burnt orange cotton shirt that complemented his fiery wad of hair. Even a missing ear suited him for some reason. Only now did Harry notice the minute bags under his eyes, which always reminded him of roasted peanut husks. 

‘Believe it or not, this is a real money-spinner right now,’ George gestured to a wall of colourful boxed products, above them, a large poster hung from the ceiling. The slogan read: Now that you’ve stopped worrying about You-Know-Who, how about putting more Art in your Fart! ‘It was one of the last things we worked on together. A chewing gum that causes consensual laxative effects, harmless and odour-free. Chewers discharge a different sound, be it a lion’s roar, a tolling bell, or the national anthem.’

‘Entreprenuity at it’s finest,’ Harry snickered loosely. ‘I’ve always admired your brilliant minds.’

‘Truth is, I’ve been slacking off on my creativity, as of late. A bit different bouncing ideas off a wall instead of Fred’s brain.’

‘Just give it some time, you’ll find it again, and when you do, the world will become your oyster.’

Verity waved her goodbyes, and as soon as the door closed behind her, George unsheathed his wand from the hidden pocket of his blazer and gave it a flick, from this distance, Harry could hear the clicks as the door locked securely. ‘Appreciate the inspirational words, mate. Who wouldn’t love a giant spherical blob of aphrodisiac? Speaking of which.’

‘You’re joking, right?’ Harry raised a curious brow, barely keeping up with George’s long strides. He led him up the staircase past more newly released products and stopped at a door with a complex padlock. 

‘Think of it as market expansion. Very much in tune with wizarding societal needs, specifically the explicit type.’

‘Meaning?’

George turned around abruptly and braced Harry’s biceps. ‘Meaning, I’m broadening my horizons, even if it means I’ll be sailing through uncharted waters on my own.’

‘You’re not living unless you’re taking risks,’ Harry said, straightening his lopsided spectacles.

‘Spoken like the true legend you are, Harry. Good to know we’re on the same page, for now.’ George reclaimed his hands and unclipped a brass key from his belt loop to unlock the mysterious door.

It took Harry a moment to realise they were standing inside a triangular-shaped room, closely mirroring the building’s exterior. Judging by the disarray of cauldrons, instruments and notebooks, this was where the magic happened. At the centre, on the surface of a long wooden table, silver dishes of loose, black powder were neatly arranged into several rows. ‘Peruvian instant darkness powder,’ Harry muttered to himself.

‘With an illicit twist, of course. Figured out how to manipulate its properties, and added some fun ingredients. Still in the early stages of production.’

‘What does it do, exactly?’ Harry asked as George hesitated before he moved to the end of the table to unlatch a small wooden chest lined with red velvet. Inside was a heart-shaped clump of powder, in which George removed and placed it gingerly within Harry’s palm. Then he looked him square in the eye and smouldered, waggling his eyebrows.

‘Ever fancied a fuck at any time and any place? Purge the urge no longer, with Wicked Ways Potentcy Powder.’ 

Harry shook his head and guffawed in disbelief while George looked somewhat disheartened. ‘You’re a bloody genius!’ Harry exclaimed.

The look on George’s face moulded into relief. ‘It works just like Peruvian powder, privacy with added longevity, impenetrable and infused with sex-inducing pollen. Once I find a controlled environment for any brave testers, I’ll give this under the counter stuff a trial run.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Harry said, fumbling over the smooth, black heart between his fingertips. He tossed it in the air and cushioned its fall with an open palm. ‘You know, just to get the ball rolling.’ They lingered in silence as if George was waiting for the gag, but Harry gave a nod assurance.

‘Right then, I’ll monitor from a safe distance,’ George said briskly, as he winked with enthusiasm. ‘Before I leave you to your own devices, there’s a high chance of dysfunction occurring while induced.’

‘I’ve endured worse.’ Harry wriggled out of his jacket and tossed it on the worn leather couch pressed against the wall next to a crate of fireworks. His hoodie followed not long after. The wand strapped to his forearm fed him enough courage to be George’s guinea pig as he sunk into the couch, but he trusted him enough to remove it. The heart in his hand felt a lot heavier than before. George added to its weight when he crossed the room to retrieve a mason jar containing transparent mush, making its purpose obvious with a sly grin.

‘Sometimes I forget you wiped Voldemort from the face of the earth. Happy fondling, mate.’

Harry dumped the black heart against the wooden floor and plumes of black clouds billowed around him, forming a thick, dark barrier. Immediately he was struck by a pungent but sweet fragrance of pomegranate, quite a contrast against the pitch-black curtain hanging in the air.

He doesn’t expect it to happen so soon. It started with a tingle in his toes, then a prickling feeling rapidly crept up his legs like vines. The pleasant sensation settled at his thighs until a violent jolt tore through his lower body and forced his hips off the couch as his knuckles turned pale from clenching at the cool leather under his palms. ‘Holy fuck!’ He cried out, when his cock awakens, straining against the zipper of his jeans.

‘Everything alright in there? ‘George asked calmly. ‘Thought we were past the missing ear jokes.’ 

Harry couldn’t care less if it sounded like George was standing just beyond the dark mist, now that he throbbed madly to the point he gritted his teeth to bear the ache. He snapped his head back, nearly losing his spectacles. ‘Doing great,’ he giggled nervously, combing shaky fingers through his cropped hair, wanting to release his wild cock from its prison. ‘I lie, it’s terrifyingly unbearable!’ 

George bellowed, then coughed as if to stifle his amusement at the situation or perhaps it was the excess powder. ‘That’s a good sign, mate. If it’s torturous, it’s working. Impenetrability needs some tweaking, sound shouldn’t be travelling through it at all and—Oh, blimey!’ George gasped with surprise.

‘I figured as much,’ Harry took one last breath, knowing he was fighting a losing battle with himself. The belt at his waist loosened and he yanked at the clasp of his trousers with such force it shot right through the black mist out of sight. In one swift move, he unzipped his jeans, and his cock came flying out of his boxers to greet him, bobbing and swaying at its own accord like a disobedient pet snake. The jar at his side begged to be of use, further bolstering his urges. He dipped two fingers into the cool aloe vera gel and scooped out a decent amount. When he finally wrapped his fingers around the tip of his shaft, it responded with an impatient quiver. 

Without further ado, Harry lathered his cock’s rearing head and made the first excruciating journey downwards until his hand could travel no further. The slick, satisfying noises made him emphasise every thrust as he held himself in place searching for purchase and any means of release.

The absence of George’s voice could only mean he either decided on giving Harry some privacy or the blanket of black mist was functioning as it should. When he closed his eyes in hopes of conjuring a fantasy to aid him through his ministrations, an obscene vision of George tea potting him from behind appeared. 

Perhaps this was one of the dysfunctions George warned about, though Harry couldn’t explain why his companion waltzed right through the black fog and stood in front of him with his trousers gathered at the knee and a solid cock standing in salutation. ‘Like I said, still in its early stages,’ Fred said with a nonchalant shrug, nostrils flaring as if to regulate his breathing now that the powder had taken charge.

Harry couldn’t stop touching himself even if he wanted too, though it felt far from perverse, seeing as George hungrily bit at the pillow of his bottom lip, and his eyes were fixed on Harry’s wet cock. 

‘Yeah, that looks torturous, man. You could join me for magical advancement purposes, or stand there like a handsome idiot.’ 

George’s eyes widened at Harry’s proposition before he stepped closer and nodded furiously. ‘Right, it’ll be like old times back in the ‘come and go’ room.’ 

Harry remembered it fondly, sneaking off with a group of boys in search of a place to manage those pesky bodily urges, away from prying mouths and ears. Those days were long gone, now that he was defying the urge to purge his needs.

‘Only this time, we’ll be doing more than just wanking in separate cubicles.’ George beckoned for the jar of homemade lubricant as his cock trembled within his sweaty palms, more for stability than control. When he leaned over to retrieve it, Harry pulled him closer. George doesn’t protest. ‘Let me take care of that for you,’ Harry insisted, ‘just relax.’

‘Tell that to my raging hormones.’ George slackened his grip on his cock and cupped a broad hand at the nape of Harry’s neck, where he rubbed at his scalp, urging him closer.

Harry admired George’s possession carefully, its glossed pinking tip greeted him with mischief just like its master, who towered above him with an open mouth and half-lidded eyes, waiting in lust. Harry hoped he shared the same wanting that coursed through his veins.

‘Shit!’ George cussed when Harry pressed a wet tongue against his hard cock. Its girth felt marvellous within his grip, he could barely close his fist.

‘I’ve wanted this for so long,’ Harry confessed, meeting George’s gaze above him. ‘I just never had the balls to act on it.’

‘Uncanny that, now you’ve got a nice pair dangling in front of you,’ George breathed, trying his best to control his unruly hips from bucking, ‘it was just a matter of time.’ 

‘I suppose I should praise your intelligence for inventing this sex pollen.’

‘Or, I can praise you for existing.’

George groaned when Harry wrapped his lips firmly around his cock and urged his mouth further along, over the subtle embossing of veins, protruding from under the smooth layer of skin there. 

Harry had one hand kneading George’s balls while the other brushed through a soft mass of fiery red pubic hair and scratched at a taut navel. Every time George thrust forward, pushing his cock to a comfortable depth, Harry was gifted with a constriction of muscles, moving beneath his touch. 

‘Fucking hell, Harry,’ George mewled desperately. ‘I need more.’

Harry found those unruly hips and stilled George’s movements, though the resistance was unbearable. Judging by his companion’s frown, the feeling was mutual. 

George slowly withdrew himself from Harry’s heated mouth and twisted the fabric of his t-shirt with shaky fingers, seemingly frustrated from the loss of contact. He moaned when Harry dragged his teeth along his cock teasingly before it re-emerged with a new purpose. 

Still bound by the string of saliva between them, George hoisted Harry effortlessly to his feet and closed the distance until their bodies were flush. The kiss was meaningful and whispered of unspoken desires. Harry poured years of pining into it, hoping some part of George would reciprocate. His worries vanished when George captured his lips, careful not to break such a delicate gesture, as he nibbled and sucked on the slender pillows of Harry’s lips.

As George traced a finger over the lighting bolt scar of the boy who lived and the man Harry had become, entangled in darkness, changing in shape and form, this is what their version of love had become. A black, powdered version of love. 

George broke the kiss when Harry found his surging cock again as it rubbed against his stomach, even with his t-shirt on, he could still feel the heat radiating from it. ‘Good to know both of us still want this,’ Harry said between shallow breaths. 

‘I never stopped, even when the pollen wore off.’ Harry’s stroking came to a halt midway down George’s cock. ‘Meaning, this is more than just a fuck, Harry.’

Harry stood bewildered, wondering how long it had been since the pollen had evaporated and all that remained was this undeniable feeling inside him that somehow, always existed even if he was oblivious to wanting George all this time. Regardless, his jeans and boxers dropped to his knees, he tugged gently at the raging cock following his every move as he kneeled on to the leather couch and faced the wall. They could care less that the powder was dissolving rapidly, it seemed to fuel their actions more. Harry leaned forward, waiting for George to smother more gel on his possession. 

The wet, sloppy noises from behind only hardened Harry more. When George surged forward, bulge crushed against his arse, Harry reached down and wanked himself with tenacity. A pair of broad hands found support at his waist while his entrance was being teased with the head of George’s wondrous cock. Those same hands spread him open and it only takes one slow and measured push. Within a few precious seconds, he’s being filled with abundance.

‘It feels good being inside you,’ George groaned, as he eased his way in, thrusting with the movement of Harry’s hips. ‘Getting to know you like this.’

‘Feels even better when I’m taking you.’

Harry felt the change in George’s stance and the pressure building within his own hands. The thrusts strengthened now, rough and somewhat uneven, and the room echoed with the salacious sounds of gathered moisture every time George pounded his cock harder.

A firm but gentle hand ushered Harry backwards until he was arched at an angle where George held him in place. They were both close now, caught in a slick, rough exchange of wet kisses and the pleasures of the many pushes and pulls that had no right to allow their version of love to come to a end.

Harry’s world came crumbling down when George bucked for the last time, and a violent shiver of pleasure swept through their bodies. Harry was dripping in his arousal, and more came trickling down the inside of his thigh. What started as a tiny feeling from his toes, had flooded every dark chasm inside him with a blinding light. George came down from his high with his cock pulsing inside him as he clung to Harry in a silent embrace, until his cheeky tongue made its return.

‘Blimey—that was a pleasant accident.’ George sighed happily. ‘We’ve needed this for a long time, Harry. Impeccable timing too, with my patronus fireworks debut, now that I can’t produce one to save my loins.’

‘I’m adamant your loins won’t need protecting from dementors any time soon,’ Harry replied with a tired smile.

‘It’s not the dementors I’m worried about now. It’s you.’

Their laughters melted into joy once more, and this time George left a lasting impression on Harry’s lips with confidence.

Tucked under George’s wings, Harry knows now that even without the potency powder, it was just a matter of time before they ended up together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
